


For the One You Love

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, First Time, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-12-08
Updated: 2000-12-08
Packaged: 2019-05-15 20:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Donna kisses him, but. . .





	1. For the One You Love

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

FOR THE ONE YOU LOVE  
By Gabrielle Aurelius  
Warning: language and slight adult theme (very very slight, if even  
noticeable at all)  
Please give feedback *grin*

Chapter 1

Today, my alarm failed to wake me up punctually- maybe due to the fact that  
when it started ringing, I threw it through the nearest open door.  
        Today, the wind was frigid enough to turn my face white- that sickly  
pale color that makes the small patches of red on my cheeks, the only  
indication that I really do have some circulation, look like rouge.  
Today, the sky was grey- with a definite threat of rain- and the minute I  
stepped outside the door snow started falling.  Right down my coat.  
And, finally, today there was no cup of coffee waiting for me on my desk.  
To all appearances, it was an ordinary day.  Aside from the fact, of  
course, that it was Christmas Eve.  
At 7:30 a.m. I dragged into my office, shut the door, and sank into my  
chair, wishing the President would pass a law - Lyman's Law of Longevity for  
Insomniacs (catchy, isn't it, with all that alliteration)- stating that  
every day will have 36 hours in it instead of its traditional and, might I  
add utterly stupid, twenty-four.  
Ah yes, Lyman's Law of Longevity for Insomniacs.  
Because that's what I am: an insomniac.  
I mean, what else could it be?  
When I finally crawl into bed at one in the morning- that is, if I'm lucky-  
and overcome my compulsion to crawl back out again and head back to the  
office, I'm already thinking about her.  
Over the obsessive chanting in my brain to return to the White House runs  
the airy melody of Her.  It's so crazy- no matter what I do, I can't get to  
sleep.  I keep thinking about her; the way she smiles in that off-beat kind  
of way, her quirky voice that not only keeps me in line but, throughout the  
course of the day, steadily drives me nuts, and even the way she puts me  
back into my place with her sharp wit.  The woman is a goddess.  
        An infuriating, mind numbingly beautiful, absolutely maddening  
Goddess.  Spell it everyone: G-O-D-D-E-S-S.  Damn, the woman is fine.  
        And, I blame my insomnia all on her.  
        By the time I finally drift off into a light sleep, my alarm clamors  
to life, sending me leaping out of bed, screaming.  I have never done well  
with loud noises.  Especially not after the shooting.  But I'm just not  
going to go there.  That's a whole different "jar of worms," as the  
President would say, all in itself.  Also, you would think I'd invest in  
another alarm, a subtler, more gentle one perhaps; but, I figure, despite my  
best intentions to daily murder it, it gets the job done.  Eventually.  
        Anyway, after my morning rise-and-shriek, I stumble into the office  
a veritable ray of sunshine.  Trust me, it's not safe to enter the perimeter  
of my office until about after noon, when I've regained some of my  
(admittedly pitiful) good humor.  Unless, of course, you're Donnatella Moss.  
        Which is why, after bellowing Donna's name about ten times this  
morning, I storm through the bull- pen looking for my AWOL assistant, and  
the source of my insomnia.  
        Believe me when I say that not her beauty, but the way she's  
sobbing, stops me in my tracks.  
        Donna is leaning against the wall, her arms hugging her body, and  
crying like someone just died.  I shiver, flashbacks of seeing her, face  
flushed and creased with sadness, standing above my hospital bed.  I quickly  
shove the memories aside.  
        "Donna?" I ask gently.  
        She doesn't even look up; she just stands there with her eyes closed  
and tears streaming down her cheeks.  
        It breaks my heart to see her like this.  
        Silently, I put my arms protectively around her shoulders and steer  
her away from the bull- pen.  I glare ferociously at anyone who comes within  
a foot of us, warning them pointedly that what is going on is none of their  
business and that if they interfere there will be hell to pay.  
        No one bothers us the entire way to the car.  
        When I finally get Donna situated into the passenger's side, I turn  
on the engine and head away from the White House.  I honestly don't know  
where I'm taking her.  But the main thing is that she's away from there-  
where people might stare at her and ask her intrusive questions.  She's so  
vulnerable that I really believe that if someone were to ask her what  
happened she'd break.  
        We drive in silence for a total of ten minutes.  No radio, no  
outside noises; just the two of us, alone, sharing the silence.  I glance at  
her every once in awhile, as I make a right turn, pretending it's natural  
that I look to the side while turning a corner.  She doesn't give any  
indication of caring, so I keep doing it.  We've turned twelve corners so  
far.  
        Finally, she speaks.  Her voice is soft and delicate, and filled  
with hurt.  "Kavin dumped me," she whispers.  
        I nearly slam the brakes.  Donna is here with me now, crying,  
because some bastard, some two-timing asshole who deserves to have all women  
shun him for the rest of his miserable life, didn't think she was good  
enough for him and so dumped her on Christmas Eve.  Didn't think that  
Donnatella, the only woman in my life who has ever shown me anything more  
than contempt or fleeting affection, was good enough for him.  My  
Donnatella.  My goddess.  
        I stare blackly ahead at the road.  For Donna's sake, I will attempt  
to control my strong emotions of hate and homicide, and manage to say in a  
somewhat steady voice, "Why?"  
        "I don't know," she says again in the same soft, broken voice.  
        I fight the urge to draw her into my arms and hug her.  I want to  
comfort her and tell her that she's better without that bastard in her life.  
  But I do neither.  I'm so afraid of hurting her and intruding on her  
personal space.  
        Somehow, in the office we're very comfortable; I can put my hand on  
her back without there being even the hint of sexual undertones or  
discomfort.  But here, outside and in the real world, it's different.  I  
feel like there's a wall now between us- almost as if I haven't known this  
woman for years.  It's frustrating.  To burn out some of my fury, I begin to  
drive a little faster.  
        "Thanks for getting me out of there," Donna says after awhile.  This  
time, she looks at me.  
        I turn to her and try to smile.  "It's okay."  I face the road  
again.  I can't bear to see her red eyes and tear-streaked face.  I really  
want to kill the bastard that did this to her.  But first, I'm going to be  
here for Donna, even if all she needs me to be right now is a driver.  
        "We had a fight," Donna begins quietly, looking out her window.  "I  
asked him if he was cheating on me."  She wiped at a tear rolling down her  
cheek.  "I- I don't even know why I came to work.  It's Christmas Eve,  
damnit, why'd he have to do this to me?"  She ran her fingers through her  
hair and sniffled.  "He got mad and started yelling at me and saying. .  
.stuff."  
        If possible, I am now even more furious.  I can't help it.  I have  
to ask.  "What did he say?"  
        Donna trembled and wrapped her arms around herself.  "He called me  
an ungrateful bitch.  He said I wasn't worth anything and that he'd only  
stayed with me for the sex.  He said that when he'd told me he loved me,  
he'd never meant it."  
        I am going to take a long lunch break today; Kavin is going to get a  
little unexpected and very unpleasant visit.  I unconsciously steer us in  
the direction of Donna's apartment.  I'm tired of circling around the White  
House.  It's time I got Donna to a place that would make her feel more  
comfortable.  
        "I keep thinking about him.  I can't get him out of my mind.  He  
really meant those horrible things he said this morning.  I can't believe I  
was so stupid to believe he actually loved me!"  Donna pounded her fists  
against the door.  "This one time, when I'd gone to visit him at work during  
my lunch break, he'd made such a big thing out of it.  He kissed me in front  
of everyone, even his boss; and he told me he loved me, even though everyone  
was watching us.  I guess that's why he did it.  He even got his boss to  
give me free coffee in one of those mugs that usually cost a lot just  
because they have "Starbucks" written on them."  She wiped her eyes on her  
sleeves.  "How could I have been so stupid?"  
        I abruptly stop in the middle of the road.  So what if the cops give  
me a ticket?  Screw it.  I don't care.  Donna's more important to me than  
the court martial I'll probably wind up with when I yell at the officer for  
interrupting our conversation.  I take a deep breath and try to think about  
how to say what I want to say in the most gentle manner possible.  I  
suddenly realize that this is the first time I've actually thought something  
out before just blurting it out.  I am beginning to realize how much I love  
this woman.  
        I clear my throat.  "Donnatella, look at me."  I wait until she is  
facing me, her sad eyes staring hesitantly into mine.  "Kavin doesn't  
understand what love is.  He had a beautiful woman giving him the thing that  
is most sacred to her.  The gift that a woman only really gives to the one  
she loves."  I'm racking my brains to say the right thing.  I want to tell  
her what I think, but for the first time in my life, it's so hard to form  
the words in my mind.  I can't seem to get over how much I want to hug her  
and how much I want to murder Kavin.  "Donna, look," I finally say.  
"Whether or not you believe me, that jerk didn't deserve you.  He doesn't  
deserve to breathe the same *air* as you, let alone be worthy of your love.  
Believe me, I've known a lot of guys like that, who stay with a woman for  
sex.  But you know what?  They're all shallow, unhappy people who wind up  
alone.  That seems, to me, the ultimate revenge."  But, I add silently, it's  
just not gonna cut it this time; I want retribution for Donna and I'm going  
to get it.  Even if it takes me the rest of this week; and you know, it  
doesn't really matter because I don't sleep anyway.  I have all the time in  
the world to track this asshole Kavin down.  I already know from Donna that  
he works around noon at Starbucks, because that's when Donna's lunch break  
usually is; and I know he has to be nearby, because she couldn't drive very  
far and expect to get back on time.  All I have to do is call every  
Starbucks within a two mile radius and ask for Kavin.  And if all else  
fails, I'll sic the FBI or the CIA on the guy.  There are advantages, after  
all, to being the Deputy Chief of Staff to the President of the United  
States.  
Donna's looking at me with her perceptive, moist eyes.  "Josh, don't," she  
says.  
        "Don't what?"  
        "Don't do what you're thinking about doing.  I don't want you to go  
and cause trouble for Kavin.  It's okay, I can handle this.  The thing with  
Kavin is over.  Please, just let it go."  
        I am speechless.  Again.  I swear, the woman is telepathic.  I feel  
a frown darkening my face.  I don't know if I can promise Donna that I won't  
at least yell at the man.  If I can't kick his ass, the least I can do to  
feel that she's properly avenged is scream obscenities and scare the hell  
out of him.  Or at least get him fired.  
        "Josh," she says again, warningly.  
        "What?"  I desperately pray that she doesn't make me promise to  
leave the bastard alone.  
        "Don't.  Okay?  Promise me you won't."  
        Damnit.  I sigh.  I'm trapped.  "I promise I won't beat up Kavin," I  
grate out.  
        "Or scream at him and get him fired."  
I want a psychic to check her level of telepathy.  How does she know what  
I'm thinking?  Or maybe Sam was right- I just have a bad poker face.  
"Josh?" she sniffles, staring at me commandingly, and yet with such a  
vulnerable expression that I can't help but cave in to her wishes.  
"I promise I won't scream at him and get him fired."  
She turns away from me.  "Thank you."  
I nod tersely and grip the steering wheel until I feel the blood cease to  
flow in my fingers.  I start up the engine again and continue our drive to  
her apartment.  
When we get there, I pull up in front of the drab building and jump out of  
the car.  Let the cops tow it away.  I could give a damn.  
I open the car door for Donna.  She puts a hand on my cheek and shakes her  
head.  "Please, Josh.  I need to be alone now.  But for what it's worth,  
thank you."  
And then she kisses me.  
She is all the way into the building and probably inside her apartment  
before I can function again.  I am still standing where she left me, snow  
gathered under my feet like super glue, leaning idiotically against the car  
just in case my knees buckle.  Donna Moss kissed me.  
Oh my god.  
I yank at my coat.  Suddenly, despite the biting air and freezing wind, I  
am sweating.  
Who cares if it was just a quick, seemingly chaste kiss?  Who cares if it  
was only a light brush of her lips against mine?  
Donnatella Moss kissed me.  *Me*, Joshua Lyman.  
My anger towards Kavin is melting away suddenly; Donna was right.  It  
doesn't matter, he doesn't matter.  
I am going to remember that kiss for the rest of my life.  


 

  

  


	2. For the One You Love 2

FOR THE ONE YOU LOVE  
By Gabrielle Aurelius  
*note: lyrics from Celine Dion

Chapter 2

It's now the morning after I found Donna in the hallway sobbing.  
Kavin is still, I assume, going on with his life with no idea of the danger  
that hung over him yesterday.  If Donna hadn't made me promise I wouldn't  
make trouble for him, he'd be at home right now short a job and with an ice  
pack on his face and his balls in a sling.  
He has no idea just how close he came.  Mess with Donna, you mess with me.  
Anyway, I called Donna this morning from home.  
I was so happy to hear her voice- she didn't sound as fragile as yesterday.  
  She had some of her old flair and confidence back.  I was so glad that  
jerk hadn't taken that away from her, too.  
She said she was feeling better and that she'd be in to work today.  
And right before we hung up, she paused a little, and she said something  
that grabbed my attention.  "I really care about you, Josh," she said, "and  
I need to talk to you when I come in to work.  I have something to ask you."  
I swear, my heart went on over-drive at that point.  My hands turned clammy  
and cold, and my pulse was racing.  I sincerely thought I was going to get  
apoplexy.  
What exactly had she meant?  The tone she'd used was so...suggestive.  
Dare I hope?  
I catch myself staring at her empty chair.  I am actually craning my neck  
to look out the door and stare at her chair.  And all of this is done  
unconsciously- it was so natural that I didn't even know I was doing it.  
I can't help but laugh at myself a little.  I am so crazy for Donna.  
But really, whatever happens when Donna comes in to talk to me doesn't  
matter.  I will still love her.  
There was never any doubt about that.  
A knock on my open door draws me back into reality.  I almost fall out of  
my chair when I realize who it is.  
"Hey," Donna says.  
"How did you get here?" I splutter.  "I was just looking at...I mean..."  I  
am so going to shut up now.  I pick myself off of the floor and climb back  
into my chair.  
"Good morning to you, too, Josh."  She smiles at me slightly.  I'm happy to  
note that the shadows under her eyes have lightened and the pained  
expression on her face has abated somewhat.  Kavin's permanent absence  
seemed just what she needed.  
"Hi.  How you feeling?"  
"Okay."  She shuts the door.  
"So," I begin, attempting to sound casual.  "What's on your mind?"  
Donna walks around the desk until she is beside me.  Instead of having to  
look up at her, I decide to stand.  
"Josh, I am going to ask you something.  Whether you answer or not is  
entirely up to you."  
"Okay," I say, beginning to get nervous.  
"How do you feel about me?"  
I gulp.  That was so direct.  So unlike Donna; so unlike our relationship.  
I try to force words out of my mouth, but it seems my treacherous throat has  
turned to sandpaper against my will.  
"That's okay," she says quietly, and turns to leave.  
"No, wait."  I put my hand on her shoulder.  "Please, Donna.  Wait."  She's  
facing me now, her deep, compassionate eyes staring into mine.  I think I'm  
going to die of bliss before I even get the chance to speak.  But somehow, I  
say the words.  "I love you."  
Her face undergoes a slight transformation.  The traces of sadness lift,  
and she seems to brighten up a bit.  "Would you go out with me, Josh?" she  
asks.  
"I...I..." I stutter like a fool.  Of course I will, my brain is  
screaming.  The trick is to get the words past my throat.  "Yes," I say in a  
strangled voice.  
Donna smiles radiantly at me and kisses the tip of my nose.  "Good.  And,  
Merry Christmas, Josh."  She grins and goes back out the door.  
I am left standing like a pillar behind my desk, utterly shocked.  "M-merry  
Christmas," I stutter too late.  
I don't know what to make of what just happened.  Did Donnatella just ask  
me out, and did I just say yes?  
I am totally confused.  
Donna just broke up with Kavin.  By all appearances, she didn't seem to be  
doing too well rebounding yesterday.  And only twelve hours had gone by  
since then.  And here she was in my office, asking me to be her boyfriend,  
and smiling like nothing had happened.  
This doesn't make sense.  
Somewhere inside, I have a bad feeling about this.  Or, maybe it's just  
because I'm nervous.  I usually get nervous whenever I date.  Then again,  
I've never felt quite this nervous before.  I'm usually more composed and  
less panicked.  I also am not usually in love with the woman, either.  
This time, though- this time it's all different.  
This time, it's Donna.  
And this time, I am in love.

***

One week has passed since Donna and I have become "a thing."  
Already, I'm wondering if this was the wrong thing to do.  
Donna seems withdrawn- not only from me, but from everyone else, including  
Bonnie and Ginger and Margaret.  She's usually very close with them.  I  
don't think they even know that we're going out.  
So far, we've had dinner three nights in a row, and we've kissed twice.  
Yes, I've been keeping track.  
But there's something I should be seeing about our kisses.  Or, more  
specifically, the way Donna kisses me.  There's something in the back of my  
mind that's trying to tell me something about them, but I just can't quite  
get it.  
Sure, there's feeling in the way she kisses me; but there's something  
missing.  
And I can't put my finger on it.  
Also, sometimes I catch her staring out at nothing, as if she's in a  
trance.  When I try to get her attention, she snaps out of it quickly and  
flashes me a smile.  As if that would keep me from worrying.  
My sleepless nights have, as a result, become even more sleepless, if  
that's possible.  
Whereas before I used to at least get in a light doze for an hour or two  
before I actually have to get up, now I remain wide-awake.  I haven't slept  
at all in four days.  And it's beginning to wear on me.  CJ keeps shooting  
these concerned looks my way and I think Leo is about one second short of  
ordering me home to rest.  
Still, I am way more concerned about Donna.  She has this detached look to  
her all the time, like she's either about to wander off somewhere or take a  
nap.  I don't understand it.  
We really need to talk.  
I'm just afraid that she won't tell me what's bothering her.  
Maybe if I don't confront her about it, she'll deal with it; I'm a little  
uncomfortable with prying into her life when she hasn't asked my advice or  
help first.  It seems disrespectful somehow.

***

Two weeks have now passed since we became "a thing."  
Donna still has that distracted, vacant look in her eyes.  
No matter how much I try to show her I care, she brushes me off.  
We kiss a whole lot more now.  I think it's because she believes I'll be  
satisfied with that and stop bothering her.  It's slowly breaking my heart;  
she thinks that she has to kiss me to keep me out of her life.  What kind of  
a sick bribe is that?  That's not what kissing is supposed to be about.  You  
only kiss people when you want to tell them how much you care without words;  
it's not like a defense mechanism, to be used when you want to shut the  
other person out.  
I don't know what to do.  I'm going out of my mind.  
I haven't slept for a record of eight days now.  I actually got a long nap  
in this weekend, but that was only a result of taking sleeping pills.  I'm  
more of an insomniac than I was before.  Now, the only way I can get to  
sleep- or even a light doze- is to take a lot of sleeping pills.  I wonder  
if it's possible to overdose on sleeping pills.  Well, if it is, I'll  
probably find out.  It takes a large amount of them to even make me relax at  
nights now.  
This was not what I wanted for us.  
Our relationship was supposed to be beautiful.  It was supposed to give us  
comfort and security, and enjoyment; it's not supposed to be how it is now:  
strained and dishonest.  Our friendship is even suffering because of it.  We  
no longer banter like we used to.  Donna stares at me sometimes like a deer  
caught in the headlights.  
I don't know what to do; I am so frustrated!!!  
Today, when Donna came over to tell me I had a staff meeting, I tried to  
ask her what was going on.  Instead of answering me, she put her hands on my  
face and kissed me.  When she pulled back, I swear I saw something in her  
face that looked like desperation and slight distaste.  Tears sprang to my  
eyes, but I held them back staunchly until she turned to go, my question  
still unanswered.  
After she left, I totally broke down.  
This is not a relationship.  
I was fooling myself when I believed she actually loved me.  
Maybe I mistook her friendship for feelings towards me.  
I bury my face in my hands and let the tears flow.  
I know what I have to do, even though it will kill me to do it.  
But I know that I will because I love her.  
Even if she doesn't love me.  
I have just one remaining hope- that she will tell me I'm mistaken, and  
that she truly does love me.  
But I don't dare to hope right now.  The fall would be too hard if I'm  
wrong.  
I wipe my face on my sleeves.  I don't want it to look like I was crying.  
I run my hands through my hair and take a deep breath.  
"Donna," I call, just loud enough to be heard through the door.  
A moment later, she opens it and looks at me with her distant eyes.  "Yes?"  
"Come inside and shut the door.  I need to talk to you."  
Donna has this frightened look on her face.  I don't know what she's scared  
of.  The thought that she could be scared of anything I might do or say  
nearly brings the tears spilling back again.  
As I did two weeks before in this same place, I stand and face Donna.  I  
fight the tears, hoping the struggle doesn't show in my eyes.  
"Donnatella," I begin quietly.  I choke back a sob.  I'm going to do this.  
For Donna.  Then, as much as it hurts, I say it.  "I don't think we're right  
for each other."  
This look of pure relief washes over her face.  It breaks my heart to find  
out that what I suspected was true.  Donna doesn't love me.  
"Oh Josh," she says, smiling for the first time in two weeks.  "That's  
exactly what I was thinking!  I'm so glad, you lifted such a burden off my  
shoulders."  She's practically gushing in her relief.  
I feel suddenly sick.  All this time, I'd only been fooling myself.  I feel  
like someone just plunged a knife through my heart.  There is one question  
that I need to ask, even if the answer will probably be my undoing.  I can't  
help it.  I have to know.  "Why did you ask me to go out with you?"  
Donna thought for a moment in silence.  Then she spoke, her voice soft, yet  
growing in confidence.  "I was getting over my break up with Kavin, and I  
thought- well...you were so sweet to me, Josh.  I thought I was beginning  
to like you, and that we might have something together."  She cups my face  
with her hands; I notice that now there is no discomfort in the way she  
touches me.  Not like there was when we were a couple.  "I owe you an  
apology.  I was just so emotionally torn that I ran to the one person who  
cared about me like a brother and tried to use you to comfort me as a  
lover."  
"You didn't have to, Donna," I say truthfully.  "I would have been there  
for you either way."  My eyes hurt; my heart hurts.  
"I know."  She looks up at me and a sad smile passes over her face.  "Thank  
you, Joshua.  For all the times you've been there for me.  I don't know  
where I'd be without you."  
I must have winced because she is suddenly wrapping me in a hug.  "I love  
you, Josh," she whispers into my ear.  She hugs me tightly and rocks me back  
and forth like she would a child.  
I am going to lose it any second now; I can feel the tears getting ready to  
spill.  This will probably be the last time I will get to hold her.  I  
refuse to lose my chance.  I put my arms around her, too, and we stand there  
together in my office, the closeness of our bodies natural and easy.  I  
force back the tears; it is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.  
When we finally pull away, I hold her at arm's length and merely look at  
her.  
I see the confidence ready to be reawakened lurking in the back of her  
expression; I see her radiant beauty and innocence shining like warming  
beacons.  It is then that I know she will never be mine.  The realization  
slams into me like a wall of ice water.  
I realize how much I don't deserve this woman.  
Then for her, I say the hardest thing I've ever had to say in my life.  For  
her, I seal my fate.  "We just weren't meant to be."  I watch as the last  
fragments of my hope turn to dust and disappear in the wind.  
Donna kisses me on the cheek- the chaste brushing of her lips on my skin  
from two weeks ago.  "You're a good friend, Josh," she whispers.  Then she  
leaves and I am alone again in my office, and in my life.  
She will only ever see me as a friend.

***

        It's been a year since Donna and I broke up.  Not a day goes by that  
I don't think about how it might have been; not a day passes that I don't  
feel the same pain in my heart that the truth burned into it one year ago.  
        We still banter like friends do and go at it in the office, waging  
long and furious verbal wars to make our political and esoteric points.  And  
it's still all in fun; it's an odd but necessary manifestation of our  
friendship.  
        And, I am still very much in love with Donnatella Moss.  
        For her, I continue to be the friend who listens to her gripe about  
boyfriends and love problems; I'm still the one she turns to when she needs  
a shoulder to cry on.  And for that, I'm glad.  At least I can show my love  
in some way.  
Tell me:  What would you give for the one you love?  What would you be  
willing to do?  
        As for me, I'm willing to let Donna love whomever makes her happy.  
        I want that for her, even if it means that she'll never be mine.  
        And even if I have to endure listening as she speaks about her  
boyfriends, all the while trying to smother the painful flare of jealousy in  
my heart, it's worth it.  I've chosen this path.  
This is my gift to her.  
Not just for Christmas, but for the rest of my life.

***

"Wish I could be the one  
The one who could give you love  
The kind of love you really need.  
Oh I could say that I'll be all you need  
But that would be a lie.  
I'm not the one you're needing  
I love you, goodbye.

Leaving someone when you love someone  
Is the hardest thing to do  
When you love someone as much  
As I love you.

Oh I don't want to leave you  
Baby it tears me up inside.  
But I'll never be the one you're needing  
I love you, goodbye.  
Baby, it's never going to work out  
I love you, goodbye."  


The End

  


End file.
